


Try Again

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Series: Pippin [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Demon Summoning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Resurrection, Rituals, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Summoning Circles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: He would do anything to make Angel happy again.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Pippin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584271
Comments: 8
Kudos: 246





	Try Again

Alastor didn't sleep in the same bed as Angel anymore.

He didn't want to see him. Didn't want to speak to him. Didn't want those grim eyes he knew blamed him even as they tried not to.

He loved Angel, he truly did. Perhaps more than he had ever loved another being, discounting the obvious exception of his mother. But even as he knew, deep in his soul, that he deserved the resentment and hatred and silent treatment, he couldn't stand it. Couldn't find it within himself to sit next to his husband and wait through the agony of not speaking and memories and hatred and grief rolling over both of them until one gave in and started to cry.

He remembered that day, only mere months ago. The agonising scream his love had let out, cradling a frail form, blue-fingertipped and closed-eyed, and the roar of _"WHERE WERE YOU?!"_

The memory of it alone shook him to his core and could bring him to his knees. Never before had he felt such helplessness.

He wanted to fix it.

He slept on the sofa, and as morn peeked over a bloodied horizon, he stepped up and went to the room he had selected. And he read through books and carved runes and carved at himself until he couldn't feel it anymore. Inscribed insignias and built empires of symbols. Strange signs that blurred together into an incomprehensible mess of shape and line until he had to sit back and remember to breathe.

Often, when he looked at his hands, he still saw the blood. Still saw his child.

Still saw the exterminator stood over her, spear raised.

Still remembered-

He pressed harder than he needed to to carve the sigil into his arm, and then pressed more. Pressed until the memories flittered from his mind. Pressed until he didn't have to think anymore.

When blood pooled beneath him he finally stopped. The holy knife was soaked. He found he didn't care.

He had performed the ritual again and again, daily, recited the words in the passages, mantras apon rows apon pages, melting together into a sea of black ink and static. Spoke them until his tongue stung and his hands trembled and he went woozy from the blood loss.

And each time, a failure.

A little like himself, it seemed as of late.

Days passed on, unnoticed, and he didn't see how the hotel residents would look at him. Didn't see Vaggie's confusion when he refused to eat, didn't see Charlie's worry when he stopped laughing, blocked out Angel's shock when his sleeve rose to show bloodied bandages.

Try again. And again. Addendum, verbatim, ad infinitum. Write another note, write it again, checking over and over for errors until his mind spins.. Where was he going wrong? Fuck. He needed to try harder.

For Angel.

He drove the knife into the bone, and collapsed into the pentagram. The book tumbled from its little set, pages fluttering as it landed next to him. With slurred speech, he spoke.

He closed his eyes.

.

..

...

He awoke to screams.

Not those familiar screams of shock or anger or the screams of his nightmares he had found to be haunting him til the brink of insanity. The scream of a child. The scream of a baby.

He felt a weight in his arms, and, knees almost pulled to his chest, opened his eyes.

A small, grey face stared at him, large crimson eyes filled with weightless tears as a small mouth wailed.

He pulled the infant to himself, and sobbed with relief.

_"Welcome back"_


End file.
